The Lonely Wolf (14 page)

“He had something else in mind.” Ludwig circled lower, toward the spot Quintilius was indicating.

They had left Coppedè proper and were now in Trieste neighborhood. “Someone else.”

“Hmm?” Ludwig kept them several meters above ground.

“The wolf’s hormones sent a distress call to someone else.” Quintilius made sign for Ludwig to land close to a small alley. “The scent is at the strongest over there.”

With one last stroke, Ludwig brought both of them down, then still shielded under his invisibility field, Quintilius entered the narrow recess behind the arch at the entrance of the alley. “A she-panther joined him here.”

“A friend of his?” Ludwig stepped closer, frowning.

“Most likely his mate.” Quintilius’s nose told him that after Lupo had shifted back, he and a girl had stayed in that corner, occupying the same space. The lingering human scents weren’t as strong as the wolf’s, but mating hormones were easier to catch than other smells.

“So, he’s probably with her now.”

“That would be my guess.” Following the trail Lupo and the girl had left, Quintilius walked into the street and straight across it toward a white building he recognized at first glance. He sighed when Lupo’s and the girl’s scents led him directly to the building’s main door.

A step behind him, Ludwig stopped and grabbed Quintilius by his elbow. “Is that the Purists’ headquarters?”

“Of course it is.” Exiting Ludwig’s shield, Quintilius climbed the steps to the door and sniffed the air one more time.

“Your son is mated to a Purist?”

“We like our love life painful and complicated.” Quintilius couldn’t help but say it.

“Do we go in and ask for him?” Ludwig joined him at the landing.

“My dealing with the Purists has been minimal, but I know it would be a bad idea.”

“They do have a reputation for being a close sect.” Ludwig pointed at the building. “Can you feel anything else?”

“I can sense their scents going in and out of this door, and the exiting trail is stronger, which means it’s more recent, but it’s still almost a day old.” Quintilius turned and set to follow the new path, walking toward several parked cars along the street bordering the building. With a sinking feeling, he finally stopped before a vacant spot where the scents disappeared altogether and the trail went cold. “Their traces end here. They left by car.”

A day earlier.

“What have I done?” After being quiet for several minutes, Jasmine stirred as if waking from a deep slumber, only she sounded on the verge of having a meltdown.

Fighting his own emotions, Lupo didn’t answer, but tilted his head to give her a sideways glance. He could feel her anxiety mounting, and his wolf pawed to be let out and soothe her.
Stay out of it
, he ordered his wolf and cracked the car window open.

The beamer he had stolen was too small for his big frame, but in the heat of the moment, he had favored speed over comfort. The result was that he was now bumping his head against its ceiling as he drove at breakneck speed through Rome.

“I left my family behind without so much as a goodbye—” She pressed her hand over Lupo’s arm, her eyes darting out to the cityscape passing by in a blur. “I meant to leave with you, but not today. Not like this.”

The night was warm, and Romans were out in throngs to partake of the many nocturnal activities the city offered, crowding the streets that should have been otherwise emptier. Ahead of them, The Baths of Caracalla were lit and the melodious harmony of a classical concert echoed all around the ruins. Lupo’s education had not been sophisticated, and he didn’t know who had written the aria, but he welcomed the peaceful music to ground his chaotic thoughts and calm his nerves enough not to snarl at Jasmine in frustration.

“You know it wasn’t possible,” he said while he made a sharp turn without signaling his intention, and the car behind them honked.

Any other time, he would have stopped and given the annoying driver something tangible to complain about—as any hot-blooded Red would have done to put mortals in their place—but he was in a hurry to leave the city. “Do you want to marry your betrothed?”

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m mated to you?” Jasmine tapped her fingers over the dashboard. “Did you have to steal this car?”

With a deafening inner roar, his wolf let Lupo know how much he disliked that Jasmine was getting more and more agitated, which in turn made Lupo angrier. Once they passed the Caracalla Baths, the moment of respite he had experienced thanks to the classical music was gone and his mood deteriorated.

“Can you fly?” he asked before he could take the words back. It was his job to keep his mate satisfied, but not even a day together and he was already failing.

Focused on passing two cars on the right side, he didn’t turn to look at her but could imagine her rolling her eyes as she answered, “No,” with an exasperated sigh.

“Then I don’t see how we could escape without a car.” The small interior of the convertible was saturated with her scent, and he had to lower both windows to let some fresh air in.

“I must call my mother to tell her I’m fine,” Jasmine said. “You could have let me grab my cell phone on our way out at least.”

“When we’re safely out of Rome, you can call her, but I can’t stop now.”

Back at her apartment, Lupo had reacted on pure instinct, his wolf ruling his actions. Even though they had just met, at the thought of Jasmine spending time with her fiancé, he had gone crazy with jealousy.

“Everything will be okay.” He made another fast turn, soliciting a series of swearwords from the scooter he had just cut off.

“How can you say that?” Jasmine turned on the seat to face him. “My family will think I was kidnapped.”

“It doesn’t count as a felony, because you’re my mate.”

“Do you count on using that line of reasoning when my father and my brothers find us?”

“It’s the truth.”

“It won’t matter. Even if I confess that I followed you by my own will it won’t make a difference. I’m a Purist woman. I’m holy. No one can look at me or touch me but my rightful husband, which per my tribe’s rules should be a Purist and a panther.”

“Well, tough luck. You got the un-holiest werewolf in Rome. By the way, I’m in a gang and I deal V for a living.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“This is a nightmare.”

“Consider it our honeymoon.”

“What are we going to do?”

“The plan is to reach somewhere safe, where we can bond and—” He grabbed the wheel tighter as sensual images filled his mind.

She went still.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, slowing the car down.

“I always thought my first time would be different.” She shifted and brought her knees up and to the side, leaning against the door.

“I won’t be able to make it romantic for you tonight.” He grabbed the wheel tight. “I’m sorry, but I need to put all this hormonal madness behind us.” Breathing in the air from outside, he let out a humorless chuckle. “I can’t even think straight. If I don’t make you mine, I won’t be able to ensure your safety.”

“It’s my Purist genes’ fault.” She sniffled, and lowered her head to her knees, looking away from him.

“What do you mean it’s your genes’ fault?”

“Everything regarding Purist women is different, more—”

“More what?”

“You know what the legends say about Helen of Troy and how she drove two countries to war over her beauty,” she said, then paused.

“Everybody knows about her.”

“It was her scent that drove men crazy. Purist women secrete love pheromones. It’s our curse. What’s making you act so irrational is me and I’m sorry, but I can’t stop it.”

Jasmine’s sadness tugged at Lupo’s heart, and all his anger abated. Wishing he could stop the car and pull her in his lap, he sighed, then whispered, “Don’t say that. If it’s a matter of chemical attraction that led us together I’m glad, because otherwise I would’ve never seen you that day. I would’ve walked away without realizing the love of my life was hiding under that ugly chiton.” Prying one hand open, he reached for her head and caressed the veil she had hastily pulled back on. “I’m lucky, because fate put me on the right track the day I first saw you.”

“You are not mad?” She hugged her knees tighter.

“Look at me.” One eye on the road and one on the black ball of fabric that was Jasmine, he tugged at the veil until her hair was freed and tumbled all over her like an auburn silk blanket. “Jasmine, turn around so I can see you.”

Slowly, she unfolded and sat facing him. “I didn’t know you’d react the way you did. For weeks, I’ve fantasized about the moment we would be together. I knew you’d come and I made plans and imagined all the things I was going to say to you. How I would seduce you by unveiling myself. Then you were in my room, and I got scared. You were real and so much more than I expected, and I realized I was playing with fire.”

His heart beating too fast, Lupo breathed a big gulp of air from the open window. “Have I disappointed you?”

“No, you’re perfect, and I’ve fallen in love with you so hard, I’d do everything to keep you by my side. Even mark you without your consent and leave my family behind.” She lowered her eyes.

“You feel guilty.” A deep ache pervaded Lupo, darkening his thoughts. To start a life together with the heavy toll of remorse hanging over their heads wasn’t something he wanted.

“I do,” she whispered.

He tried to put himself in her place, but with no family to go back to, he couldn’t fathom her emotions. “I forced you to come with me.”

She shook her head. “That’s partially true.”

At the mental image of Jasmine fighting him off, he couldn’t help a sigh. “Don’t be silly, it’s not that you could’ve stopped me.”

Raising her chin, she locked eyes with him. “Did I cry and beg you to let me go?”

Startled by the question, Lupo let his brain play the image of a crying Jasmine and realized he would have never taken her away had she not wanted to follow him.

“See.” She tilted her head to the side and gave him a small smile. “You have a pure heart. My panther would’ve never chosen your wolf if it weren’t the case.”

“We’ll make it work. This insanity, we’ll find a way out of it.” He wanted to say that they would be a family one day, and that she would want for nothing with him, but he didn’t know if he could compete with what she had just lost.

Despite she had just confessed her willingness to leave everything behind to be with him, Lupo was the one feeling guilty. He had acted on an impulse without thinking of the consequences of his actions. He had wanted her, and he had taken her away from her family. In his heart, the fact his wolf and his hormones had dictated his will didn’t excuse him from hurting her, even if unknowingly. A good mate should have known better.

Yet, at the thought of waiting for her to come back from her date with her betrothed—even if the whole of the Purist society would be attending—a roar escaped his mouth. “Sorry,” he said, realizing he would have dragged her away from her apartment again and again.

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then reached for his hand now clutching the gear with more strength than necessary.

At her slight pressure, he relaxed his hold. “I forget you can read my mind.”

“I know we will have a beautiful family together, I just need time to wrap my head around all of this—” She brought his hand to her lips for a soft brush.

“Thank you,” he said and was shocked to hear his voice breaking.

“My big wolf.” She leaned her cheek against his big hand.

“My small, but very lethal panther.” He caressed her face and she purred.

“Lupo?”

“Hmm?”

“You’ll have to stop dealing V.”

“Okay.” He chuckled. “I imagined you’d have a problem with that.”

“Will it be difficult to get out of the gang?”

“I’m sure the Reds are already after me—”

She gasped, her eyes widening. “You are with the Reds—”

“The way you say it, you make me feel dirty just by association.” He shrugged, then a thought crossed his mind. “Didn’t you already know it?”

“It’s not like I’m always spying on your thoughts. I respect your privacy, you big oaf. Sometimes, you are so loud I can’t help but hear you, but otherwise I would never pry—” She frowned, then shook her head. “You made me stray from the main point though.” Her eyes widened. “You belong to the most dangerous and cruelest band of criminals in Rome.”

“Only the best for your wolf, baby.” He placed his hand over her shoulder, unable to resist his urge to touch her. “I’ll find a way to fix that too. You won’t be harmed, I promise.”

“I’m worried about you.” Shaking, she stopped his hand with hers and brought it to her lap.

Having someone fret over him was such an alien experience for Lupo that he was left without words for a few heartbeats. Then he managed a choked, “I’ll be fine.”

After that exchange, they remained in silence for a few kilometers, then she asked, “Where are we going?”

“Have you ever heard of a place called Reserve?”

“The park where werewolves have their monthly run?”

“The same one.”

“But it’s a private estate—”

“It belongs to my dad.”

“Isn’t it Lucius Seneca Quintilius’s property?”

“Yep.”

“You are Quintilius’s son?”

“It’s complicated.”

Perched on the windowsill, Ludwig looked down at the Tiber. The waters of the river were dark and slow, giving the impression of stillness and mirroring Ludwig’s feeling of impotence.

A few minutes earlier, he had deposited Quin before his bedroom’s French doors. He had hoped Quin would invite him in, but his wolf had said his goodbye and entered the house without looking back. From
Casolare del Lupo
to his penthouse, Ludwig had flown at full speed and let the frigid air of the high altitude cool his hot temper into a muted sadness.

Looking back at the events of the last two days, he had plenty of reasons to be angry, but deep inside he was angry only at himself.

The air in his apartment was stifled, but opening all the windows had not helped. Sitting across the windowsill, contemplating jumping down and skirting the dark waters at the very last moment had its appeal, but it was futile. Nothing but Quin’s body beside his would help.

In the past, he had experienced frustration when he was separated from his wolf, but he had always known deep inside that it was temporary. Now, the ache was as sharp as a blade cutting through his wings, and he could barely breathe at the thought of never kissing Quin again.

His cell phone chimed, and he blindly reached for it, his heart beating faster. “Quin?”

“I’m afraid not,” Claudius’s arrogant voice answered.

“What do you want?” Standing up on the narrow base of the windowsill, Ludwig turned on his shield and plummeted down, phone to his ear.

“I called to give you a small incentive to deliver the boy to me.”

“I won’t give up Lupo.” With his right wing, he brushed the Tiber creating a small wave, then he reoriented himself by using his left wing like a helm and shot back up toward the clouds.

“We’ll see about that.” Claudius hung up, and Ludwig was left with an unpleasant aftertaste in his mouth as he breathed in a puff of combustion smoke that had drifted up.

A moment later, as he flew over Castel Sant’ Angelo, his phone chimed again, notifying him he had received a new email; it was from an unknown sender and had a video attachment. Curiosity won over caution, and he landed on top of the brass angel towering over the Immortal Council’s headquarters.

When he hit play on the video, he wasn’t surprised to see a recording of his conversation with Claudius. From the moment he and Quintilius had entered the secret basement to the part where he unleashed his Wrath, twice, everything had been captured on camera. Less than an hour of footage, but enough to destroy Ludwig and everything he had built over two millennia.

A lapse in judgment, and here he was, helpless prey of a degenerate. Rage engulfed Ludwig and he hurled his cell phone away, then he screamed to the sky, piercing the thick blanket of clouds and showering the street beneath with rain no meteorologist had forecasted.

****

“Is your coffee still warm?” Camelia asked Quintilius, pointing at the cold cup he was playing with.

“It doesn’t matter.” With his flat palm, he covered the cup. “It’s not that I need the caffeine in any case. But if you want some, I can make a new moka.” The espresso maker sat neglected on the stove.

Quintilius had been staring outside the kitchen window for the last hour or so. Storms of loud birds created dark shadows on the nocturnal sky, and he distractedly followed their trajectory.

Soon after Ludwig left, he had gone out looking for his gardener. He had found no trace of the man anywhere, and he jogged back inside and straight to the communal quarters. There, in the silence of the big industrial kitchen, he had busied himself with fixing a sandwich he didn’t eat and a coffee he didn’t drink.

Camelia must have heard him the moment he opened his bedroom’s French doors. Most assuredly, she hadn’t missed the unmistakable flapping of Ludwig’s wings, but she had given Quintilius time to vent and only sought him out later.

Having sat in the same position for a while, his right leg was asleep, and when he shifted on the chair it painfully tingled. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

She waved his concern away. “When I didn’t see you in the morning, I imagined you spent the night with Ludwig, but then Iris called from the office looking for you. I told her you probably had other plans, then I tried to reach you. At first I thought you two had eloped—” Camelia’s lips turned up in a small smile. “Then the gardener didn’t show up as well, and I knew something was wrong. I called Ludwig and he didn’t answer. Another hour without having any news from you, and I would’ve called Ophelia.”

“The gardener is dead and it’s my fault.” He pushed the cup away and placed both hands on the granite surface of the table. Cold seeped through his palms, but his body warmth counteracted the cooling property of the stone and he left behind two halos when he raised his hands. Passing his fingers through his unruly mane, he realized he needed a shower.

“What happened?” Camelia wheeled closer to him.

“I have a son.”

Camelia stared at him, her mouth forming a small “o.”

“I know, it sounds incredible.” He shook his head. “His name is Lupo and he is a strong alpha.”

“How did you—?”

“Ludwig found him.” He didn’t know where to start to tell her the whole tale, and it hurt him to think. Fatigue coupled with fasting was taking its toll on Quintilius. He went to the fridge and grabbed the pitcher of fresh squeezed orange juice. Pouring some for him in a tall glass, he asked her if she wanted any, but she declined the offer, and he gulped down his juice.

Camelia waited for him to sit back at the table before asking, “Who’s his mother?”

“I believe one of the girls who worked here some eighteen years ago.” He saw the dismay on her face and raised his hand to add, “I know what you’re thinking, but it never happened again. After her, I never entertained any liaison with my personnel. It was one lapse in judgment I didn’t repeat.”

“And you think you had a son with this girl.”

“The date coincides.”

“Then it was a beautiful mistake, and I can’t wait to meet your son.”

“You and I both.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m wide awake.”

Quintilius summarized the event of the last day and a half, and how Ludwig’s accidental discovery had led to the gardener being killed by Claudius. He was about to wrap up his story when the sound of breaking glass startled both he and Camelia.

As the noise changed into loud smashing and banging, Quintilius realized that the mayhem originated from Camelia’s quarters. He stood and shook his head when she made to follow him. “Stay here.” Running, he was at her apartments’ door a few seconds later, only to find it blocked from the inside.

“What’s going on?” Ramming his shoulder into the door, he had to try twice before the wooden surface splintered and he stumbled on an overturned piece of furniture. The antique dresser that he had bought for Camelia’s bedroom now lay at the entrance of her foyer, two rooms away from its original position.

With a thunderous roar, Quintilius followed the trail of broken furniture, lamps, paintings, and all the shards of terracotta vases and smashed plants littering the floors, all the way from the hallway to Camelia’s bedroom. Once he stepped into her room, he was shocked by the brutality displayed in the attack. Her bed was split in two and all her vases had been shattered, some of them hurled against the walls. Not one single item was left intact. Yet, the destruction had taken less than a handful of minutes, and the culprit was nowhere to be found.

Quintilius skirted the broken furniture and passed over the smaller debris on his way to the broken window. The unmistakable smell of vampire hit his nostrils. Rage filling him, Quintilius let his wolf out but kept his consciousness awake. Powering on all fours, he jumped through the window, chasing after the overpowering scent that bordered all around the perimeter of the
casolare
.

Bad smell.

Evil.

Danger!

His wolf became progressively more anxious as he circled back toward the communal kitchen. The vampire scent was stronger and fresher, and his wolf ran against the closed French doors, breaking the double glass as if it were cardboard.

Evil.

Night-creature.

Bad.

Camelia!

Upon entering the kitchen, the wolf saw a vampire keeping Camelia in his hold, her lifeless legs dangling as the man jerked her around. Blood seeped through her nightgown. The sight and scent of her life essence wasting away sent the wolf into a frenzy.

Acting on pure animal instinct, the wolf took a running start and jumped on the vampire, sending both him and Camelia to the floor. When he had the man firmly under him, he pawed at the man’s arm until he released his hold on her, then he attacked the man’s jugular and bit down. His fangs tore at skin and tendons, satisfied by the gurgling sounds the vampire made.

“It was such a pleasure to break your doll.” The man’s whispered words were accompanied by laughter that echoed through the kitchen, passing through the wolf’s senses unnoticed but reaching Quintilius.

A moment later, Quintilius was back and he stared at the man lying under him, still laughing, his face angled toward Camelia. Quintilius couldn’t help a sideway glance at her, and recoiled at the sight of her still form, and at the blood gushing from her side.

“Camelia?” he called her, but her eyes remained glassy.

“Master always wins.” The vampire pushed up and overthrew Quintilius, who found himself on the floor before he could react.

The next moment, the vampire was out of the kitchen, but Quintilius didn’t follow him. He moved toward Camelia, sat by her and cradled her in his lap, then reached for her wrist. Pressing down his finger over her vein, he silently prayed to the Great Wolf that he could feel her heartbeat.

Several seconds passed, she became progressively colder, and her lips turned a sickening shade of light blue, but he couldn’t detect any pulse under his thumb.

“Camelia?” Quintilius gently shook her. “Wake up, love.”

She remained still in his arms, light as a feather.

Lifeless.

Quintilius raised his head heavenward and roared his pain out loud for the whole of Rome to hear.